II
1 min to read 119 words
She was on the Powhatan roof with the captain. At a table, somewhat vociferously buying improbable “soft drinks” for two fluffy girls, was a man with a large familiar back.
“Oh! I think I know him,” she murmured.
“Who? There? Oh, Bresnahan, Percy Bresnahan.”
“Yes. You’ve met him? What sort of a man is he?”
“He’s a good-hearted idiot. I rather like him, and I believe that as a salesman of motors he’s a wonder. But he’s a nuisance in the aeronautic section. Tries so hard to be useful but he doesn’t know anything—he doesn’t know anything. Rather pathetic: rich man poking around and trying to be useful. Do you want to speak to him?”
“No—no—I don’t think so.”
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III
1 min to read 190 words
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